


Then I Took My Turn

by noos



Series: TSAY - Modern AU Verse [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi, established modern au verse, happy birthday shruti!, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 23:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19965118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noos/pseuds/noos
Summary: When he looks back down the aisle, he finally catches the fiery red of Sansa’s hair, her delicate white dress blowing in the wind as she stands next to her father.Theon has never seen anyone look so beautiful, he decides.





	Then I Took My Turn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSushiMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/gifts), [Semperlitluv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semperlitluv/gifts).



> Okaaaay, took me a while but this is the first of the prompts I got for the TSAY verse.
> 
> Wanted to make sure to finish it on time for Shruti's birthday since she's one of two people who asked for it. Happy Birthday, Shruti!! 
> 
> Based on prompts by TheSushiMonster and Semprelitluv - I hope you both like it!
> 
> Also big big big shout out to the loml Anniebibananie for the amazing edit she made for this. Annie ily and I will never not be thankful for knowing you AND I LOVE THIS EDIT SO SO SO MUCH! <3
> 
> Title from Yellow by Coldplay bc I'm that kind of trash. 
> 
> <3

* * *

“Of all the strip clubs in the world, you had to end up at the one we decided to go to.”

Arya rolls her eyes even as she smiles, taking a sip from her bright purple cocktail and absently stirring the fruity concoction with her tiny yellow umbrella.

“It’s literally the only strip joint on the whole fucking island,” she points out, chewing thoughtfully on her pink straw. “It was either that or finding a stripper to swing by the hotel, and this just seemed like the more practical option.”

Truth is, Pyke was a strange little place. Which is part of reason why when Sansa originally told Arya that she and Theon had decided on the island as their wedding destination, Arya wasn’t completely on board.

The biggest part, though, was Sansa. Because as far back as Arya remembers, her sister had always expressed her desire to marry in Winterfell.

_Under the Heart Tree, like mum and dad did,_ she used to tell anyone who would listen when they were kids. Arya would groan and leave the room before Sansa could drone on about it, going into every single mind-numbing detail she wanted to have on her metaphorical big day.

But then when the time came and Sansa started planning her actual wedding, Winterfell was the first location she took off the list, much to Arya’s confusion.

_It doesn’t seem right_ , Sansa had ultimately confided in her. _Not after Bran’s fall. And it would be too hard, anyway. I’m going to be missing mum too much and being at a place where every single stone brings up memories of her won’t make it any easier. It’s better we do it elsewhere._

Arya understood, of course, but she still found it quite strange when Sansa eventually picked _Pyke_. As far as she knew, Theon didn’t exactly like his hometown. Err, home island. Whatever, he didn’t like the place because he had too many shit memories there.

Which, it turns out, is exactly the reason why Sansa picks the location; she wants to give Theon something good to remember about his birth place, she explains to Arya. Something other than his dying mother and abusive father.

So there they were, almost a year later, their entire ragtag group of friends littered around this seedy little strip joint doing ungodly things to strippers of all shapes and sizes and drinking overly sugary cocktails with very questionable alcohol ratios.

Gendry shrugs next to her, stepping closer and throwing a hand loosely over her shoulder. She relaxes against him, looking up at him and grinning when he leans down to kiss her.

The strobe lighting has turned his face a sickly shade of green and the smell of salt lingers on his skin, probably from when they went for a swim a few hours earlier. Or maybe it’s because everything smells and tastes and feels of salt on this bloody island.

“At least they seem to be having a good time,” Gendry muses after a moment, motioning to where Sansa and Theon are currently engaged in a vaguely disturbing lap dance with the Ken-doll of male strippers.

Arya snorts unattractively as she watches Sansa howl drunkenly while the stripper grinds down on Theon. Her sister flips her bright red hair over her shoulder, groping the man’s ass cheekily and stuffing a few bills under the elastic band of his shiny gold briefs. Theon just grins wolfishly as he runs his hands over the man’s washboard abs in the most exaggerated fashion.

She grimaces, forehead creasing. “Isn’t no touching the strippers, like, the first rule at these places?”

“I’m not sure this place has any rules,” Gendry counters, taking a sip from his beer and looking around the strip club to emphasize his point.

She huffs amusedly as she pulls away to glance up at him again, her tongue darting out of her mouth as she continues to chew on her straw. “‘Reckon you’d look better in those tiny gold shorts.”

“‘Reckon you would, too,” he counters immediately. Her grin widens. “Or, you know. Without them on.”

She’s about to share a few ideas on where they could sneak off to to put their theories to the test when Meera appears next to them, a bright blue fruity cocktail with a yellow straw and green and red umbrella in hand.

“Oi,” Meera calls out and Arya groans as she forces her attention away from her boyfriend. “Keep it in your pants until we’re out of here. Well, out of his pants, anyway,” Meera orders, handing Arya a wad of bills. “I got us a double whammy.” Arya’s features melt into a puzzled look which only makes Meera roll her eyes harder. “You’re pathetic,” she declares. “A double whammy? Male and female stripper combo? Bi sandwich fantasies coming to life?”

Gendry snorts loudly.

“That’s my cue to get the fuck out of your way.”

“Not so fast!” Meera objects before Gendry can get too far, pressing a different stack of bills a little too violently to his stomach and knocking the wind out of him. He grunts as his fingers wrap around the cash. “Robb and Jon are waiting for you in the back room.” Gendry stares blankly until Meera groans again. “The tallest, blondest, prettiest, most dolled up thing on this entire island is waiting for you dumbasses to give you the lap dance of your dreams. Right behind that curtain,” she adds slowly, like she’s talking to a particularly dumb child as she points vaguely behind her. “Take our groom with you.”

Gendry sighs before nodding and stuffing the bundle of dollar bills into his pocket. He leans down to press a short kiss to Arya’s lips and walks over to pry Theon away from Sansa and her stripper.

“He doesn’t really like tall, blonde and pretty,” Arya points out as she watches Sansa pout at Gendry when he leads Theon towards the other side of the joint.

“Neither does Robb,” Meera admits, a mischievous smile crossing her features.

Arya laughs as her eyes light up in understanding, shaking her head and taking another sip from her fruity drink.

Sansa turns a pair of accusing eyes to Arya and Meera, gasping dramatically. “Aryaaaaaa, where are they going?”

Arya eyes Meera, an amused look on her face.

“Alright, let’s try that stripper sandwich of yours.”

* * *

Of all the things Sansa plans on doing on her wedding day, walking in on her sister and best friend very much naked in bed does not fall anywhere near her list.

And yet somehow, that’s the first thing she ends up doing that morning.

She doesn’t mean to, really. It’s just that she wakes up with an overwhelming feeling of dread at the pit of her stomach and decides immediately that she needs one of her Arya talks to get her out of her funks.

So she falls out of her bed and nearly dashes out of her room, crossing the suite in two strides and opening the door to her sister’s room without knocking.

It is quite unfortunate that the first thing that greets her is the sight of Gendry’s very naked ass, Arya almost entirely hidden under his body.

“Seven bloody fucking hells!” She wails. “My eyes! My eyes!”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Gendry barks as he jumps away, and Sansa quickly covers her face and turns away, realizing exactly what she just interrupted.

“Sansa, what in the name of the fucking seven are you doing?!” Arya demands and even though she can’t see her, Sansa can hear the irritation lacing her sister’s every word.

In her defence, she did not think this would be what she would be walking in on.

Which was stupid, really, because they’re on vacation and staying in a super swanky hotel, it’s exactly what she and Theon would’ve been up to if they weren’t staying in different suites. Except that Gendry isn’t actually supposed to be staying with Arya either.

“I’m sorry,” she manages, groaning into her palms and walking blindly away from the bed. “In my defence, Gen, you’re not supposed to be here!” She shrieks. She hears a rustling behind her, only causing her panic to increase. “I’ll go.”

“No, stay,” she hears Gendry say, his voice startling her with how close it actually is. “You can open your eyes,” he adds. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

Sansa turns towards where she imagines he’s standing but doesn’t open her eyes yet.

“Going skinny dipping together isn’t quite on the same level as walking in on you banging my sister,” she points out.

“For fuck’s sake, Sansa, we weren’t banging,” Arya groans impatiently. “Not yet, at least. And he’s not naked anymore, you can open your bloody eyes.”

Sansa finally blinks her eyes open tentatively, wincing when she notices Gendry standing in front of her in a pair of gray sweats, hands on his hips.

“Sorry,” she mumbles again, rubbing her temples. “I just…” she trails off, looking at Arya and then back at Gendry.

Truth be told, Gendry and Arya being together has always been one of Sansa’s biggest achievements. She doesn’t care if they actually met without her help, she will yell at anyone who listens that she gets all the fucking credit for it happening because if she hadn’t pulled that stunt with Mya, then her sister might’ve never gotten her head out of her ass.

The point is, the fact that Gendry has become so intricately involved in all of their lives is one of the things she cherishes the most, and it’s in moments like these that she remembers exactly why.

Standing in front of a half-naked and very likely blue-balled Gendry in her sister’s suite room, Sansa can see the exact moment he switches his modus operandi from Arya’s boyfriend to Sansa’s friend. Because while Gendry might be the love of Arya’s life, he’s also one of the few people who know Sansa inside and out.

He nods lightly to himself as he drops his hands from his waist, reaching for Sansa’s wrist.

“Right,” he mumbles, squeezing her arm lightly and walking over to the bedside table. He picks his key card and phone up, shooting Arya a quick glance. “I’m going to go pass out in Theon’s suite, where I’m actually supposed to be.”

Arya nods wordlessly, her features softening as well.

Sansa watches as he kneels down on the bed to kiss Arya, her sister’s hand lingering on his cheek for just a moment.

“I’ll see you at the wedding,” she whispers.

Sansa feels a little bad as she watches him slip out of the room, but there’s a bigger part of her that’s relieved he’s gone. He might be one of her favourite people, but right now she needs him to be in Theon’s room where he decidedly _cannot_ distract Arya with his lips and, Sansa has to admit, rather impressive ass.

“Sansa, I love you but it’s 7:30 in the fucking am,” Arya groans. “There’s literally no reason to be up at this hour.”

Sansa cocks an eyebrow pointedly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You’re up at this hour.”

“That’s because five minutes ago I had every intention of sitting on my very hot boyfriend’s face,” she counters, mirroring Sansa’s expression. Sansa feels the guilt creep up, something she suspects Arya can see on her face because her entire body relaxes after a moment, her eyes softening. “What’s wrong?”

She wrings her hands together, shaking her head as she looks down at the ground and starts pacing nervously in front of her sister’s bed.

“I’m doing the right thing, right?”

Arya straightens up in bed, allowing the sheets to pool down around her as she leans down to grab the nearest shirt she can reach and slipping it on to cover her naked form. It’s about five times her size and Sansa wants to assume it’s Gendry’s, but with Arya, you never quite know.

“Hey.” Arya reaches for her hand, stilling her movement and pulling her over to the mattress. Sansa sighs as she allows herself to be led over to the bed, propping herself up until she’s sitting cross-legged facing her sister. “What is this about?” Arya asks when she’s satisfied with their seating arrangement.

Sansa knows how stupid she’s being even before she speaks, but she can’t help it. It’s harder to keep the bad feelings out sometimes.

“I’m just worried I’m forcing him into something he doesn’t want,” she admits in a low voice, her shoulders slumping with the confession.

“Sansa,” Arya says her name gently, reaching for her hand again. She waits until their eyes meet before she continues speaking. “Who brought up marriage in the first place?”

Sansa’s lips curl up in a smile, memories of the first time Theon blurted it out flashing to mind. “Theon.”

Arya nods solemnly. “And who had a ring already picked out when he officially proposed?”

“Theon.”

Arya smirks lopsidedly, looking at her fondly. “And who set the date for this summer instead of next summer?”

Sansa grins wider now, feeling herself relax entirely. “Theon.”

“So can you please explain to me how any of that means that you’re forcing him into anything he doesn’t want?”

Sansa shakes her head, looking down at her lap. “I’m sorry, I’m just being irrational.”

Arya’s grip tightens, her hand solid and reassuring around Sansa’s.

“Sansa, if you’re getting cold feet, then I will personally smuggle you off this bloody island myself. I will even set anyone who tries to stop me on fire, Gendry included,” she promises. Sansa huffs a short laugh. “But if it’s because you think Theon doesn’t want this, then you’re dead wrong.”

She nods lightly, allowing the words to sink in. Theon wants this just as much as she does, she knows that. It’s just that some days, it’s harder to remember. She just wishes today wasn’t one of those days.

“Don’t set your boyfriend on fire just yet,” she mumbles in amusement after a moment, eyeing her sister. “I quite like him.”

“I quite like him, too,” Arya shrugs, leaning back against the headboard and burying half her face into her shirt. _Gendry’s shirt, then_ , Sansa decides, a triumphant grin crawling up her face. Arya scowls. “What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Sansa singsongs, grinning even wider when Arya’s eyes roll into the back of her head.

She sidles up on the bed until she’s leaning against the headboard next to Arya.

“Alright, I’m up and it’s your big day,” Arya announces after a moment. “What do you want to do?”

“Honestly? I’d really be up for a burger and a beer right about now.”

“It’s 7 in the fucking morning,” Arya points out.

“Almost 8,” Sansa shrugs.

Sansa doesn’t really expect Arya to humour her ridiculous whims, but her sister surprises her, taking a deep breath before grabbing her phone and starting to type away on it.

Sansa’s phone buzzes shortly after.

**_Arya_ ** _: alright bitches. the bride wants shit food. where’s the grubbiest burger on this bloody island Yara?_

**_Yara_ ** _: its 8 in the bloody fuckn morning_

**_Arya_ ** _: thank u for that insightful information cogsworth_

**_Dany:_ ** _What’s a cogsworth?_

**_Meera_ ** _: y r u wankers bloody awake_

**_Arya_ ** _: yara stop fucking dany for a minute_

**_Brienne_ ** _: I could use a burger._

**_Missandei_ ** _: ^_

**_Dany_ ** _: She’s not fucking Dany she’s fucking asleep. What’s a cogsworth?_

**_Arya_ ** _: wake her up and ask her_

**_Yara_ ** _: I bloody hate u all_

**_Shireen:_ ** _Yes, we know. Just answer her so we can all go back to sleep._

**_Yara_ ** _: smyth’s_

_opens at noon_

_meet up in the lobby then_

_now fuck off_

**_Dany:_ ** _WhaT’S A COGSWORTH?_

“Okay, that’s sorted,” Arya decides, throwing her phone away. “We’ve got time to kill until noon. What do you want to do?”

Sansa smiles, hugging her sister’s arm and sinking further into the mattress. “You do realize Dany’s not going to stop wanking about that Beauty and the Beast reference, right?”

Arya shrugs. “Dany wanks about everything. What do you want to do?”

“We’re not having burgers for a few hours,” Sansa tells her. “I’m hungry now.”

“Room service in bed?” Arya offers. “We can watch some shit romcoms, too.”

Sansa’s eyes light up in excitement. “Knew I picked you as my maid of honour for a reason.”

Arya grins wickedly, clicking her tongue.

“Maybe we should do it in your room, though,” she ponders innocently.

“Why?”

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t get very comfortable on this bed if I were you,” she shrugs. “It’s kinda sticky, if you catch my drifts,” she adds, watching as her sister’s eyes widen in horrific realization. “You see, Gendry and I were awake for quite some time before you showed up.”

Sansa makes a guttural sound as she pushes herself off the bed and starts jumping around the room violently.

“Ewwwww,” she wails as she runs out of the room.

“Oi, where’re you going? I need you to hand me my knickers!”

“Ewwwww!”

* * *

“I can’t believe you went to Smyth’s and didn’t invite us along.”

Yara rolls her eyes as she watches her brother fiddle with his shirt for the millionth time today, a mildly appalled expression colouring his features.

“Stop being so dramatic, Theon.”

“And on my wedding day no less!” He adds in outrage, completely ignoring her.

Yara grunts in frustration, her nostrils flaring.

“For the last time, wanker, you couldn’t tag along because it was your future wife who wanted the damn burger,” she mutters tiredly. “‘S not my fault you idiots wanted to go for that whole not seeing each other on your wedding day bollocks.”

“It’s not bollocks,” Theon objects. “And anyway, that’s not the point!”

Yara crosses her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows pointedly at him. “And what, may I ask, is the bloody point exactly?”

Theon scowls, biting on his lower lip as he continues to fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“You’re the bloody best man,” he tells her. “You’re supposed to be taking care of my needs!”

“Christ on a kraken, Theon, what needs? You bloody woke up an hour ago,” Yara groans in annoyance, moving closer. “Aside from throwing water on your face to sober you and those other shitheads up, there was not much for me to do.” She swats his hands away from his shirt. “And stop doing that! You’re going to get this shirt all fucked.”

Theon sighs but drops his hands, taking a deep breath as Yara steps back to properly inspect him.

He looks much healthier than she’s ever seen him before, his cheeks rosy and his pale blue eyes clear with an air of calm that permeates his features despite his nerves.

He shaved this morning - or rather this afternoon - but kept a little scruff, insisting that Sansa quite liked a little fuzz. He’s also managed to pull his hair up into a tiny but slightly messy topknot on top of his head, eerily similar to that weird priest guy that hangs around Beric. Thoros or whatever.

Point is, he looks good. Even without the thick beard, his face is still full and his arms and chest are filling out his loose-fitting white linen shirt nicely, no longer the small, scrawny, almost sickly boy she remembers. Though his feet are bare below the cuffed hems of his pale green pants, so maybe a bit of that small boy is still there. He always liked being barefoot when they were kids.

It doesn’t matter what he looks like, anyway. Sansa will lap it all up and come back for seconds, Yara knows that for a fact.

She smiles fondly to herself.

“What?” Theon asks after a moment, brows crashing together as he tries to read her expression.

She shakes her head, wide grin still plastered on her face. “She’s lucky to have you, dumbass.”

Theon smiles as he scratches the back of his neck, as uncomfortable as she is. “Thanks.”

They were never made to show affection, their father made sure of it. He beat it into them, really, never missing the opportunity to remind them how unworthy of love and affection they were. Theon got the brunt of it, Yara knows, but she had her fair share too.

She feels a bitter taste stain her mouth as she thinks of him. The man who nearly broke her and took her brother away from her.

_Fuck you, dad._

She closes the distance between her and Theon, crushing her brother into an uncharacteristic hug. “I’m proud of you.”

It takes him a moment to reciprocate, but eventually she feels him smile into her shoulder, his arms coming to circle her waist.

A knock on the door comes soon after, Gendry’s head appearing in the doorway to announce that it’s time.

Theon nods as they pull apart. He turns to his reflection in the mirror, taking one last look before they file out.

* * *

The walk down to the beach is a little nerve-racking, but Yara and Robb and Gendry and Jon are with him every step of the way, flanking him protectively and distracting him with dumb commentary and lame jokes.

He feels the cooling sand between his toes as they make their way to the small makeshift altar, the rows of wooden chairs he can see mostly full. Bran is seated under the simple flower arch where he’s supposed to officiate the ceremony, currently flanked by Jojen, Ned and Davos.

The floor is covered with red leaves, a touch of Sansa’s home right here in Pyke.

The closer he gets, the more of his friends he can make out, and the more relaxed he feels. They all cheer when they spot him, Hot Pie howling as everybody else falls into a round of cheers and applause, even that twat Jaime Lannister, grinning like the cocky bastard he is from his perch next to Pod.

Theon walks over to where Ned stands, smiling hesitantly at the man he’s always considered as the closest thing he’s ever had to a father. He reaches a hand to shake his, but Ned only grins lopsidedly and raises his eyebrows, leaning forward and wrapping his arms right around Theon.

“I’m proud of you, son,” he whispers gruffly, nearly overwhelming Theon with the warmth of it. “You take care of her,” he adds when he pulls away.

Theon snorts. “You know it’s the other way around.”

“I know,” Ned reassures, a secret smile on his face as he looks over his shoulder and meets Yara’s eyes.

Before he can ask what that look was about, he’s distracted by a faint shouting in the distance. He follows the sound to find Shireen standing a little further down the beach, waving her bouquet back and forth to catch their attention.

“She’s on her way!”

“Showtime,” Bran mumbles as he smiles up at Theon.

Davos mumbles something as he lead Jojen away to find their seats, while Ned claps Gendry on the back, silently urging him to go along with him.

Gendry nods before he squeezes Theon’s shoulder, smiling softly.

“We’ll be back in a bit,” he promises before following Ned down the aisle.

Jon and Robb both wish him luck before they follow suit, while Yara squeezes his hand lightly and orders Bran to take care of him until her return.

Theon smiles at her as he tries to keep his nerves from taking over him completely.

_There’s nothing to be nervous about_ , he keeps reminding himself. It’s just Sansa, the woman of his fucking dreams in this life and the next, about to promise to love him forever.

_She’s already done that several times over_ , he berates himself. _So stop acting like a complete tit._

He faintly registers the sound of soft mellow music playing before he notices Gendry standing at the edge of the aisle. Shireen comes to stand next to him, looping her arm through her brother’s and smiling brightly up at him before they start walking down the aisle, her purple dress fanning behind her.

He tries to peek behind them to find Sansa but he can’t see her anywhere, only noting a flash of white behind a nearby tree.

They separate when they reach him, Shireen grinning widely at Theon before she takes her place on the bride’s side, while Gendry walks over to stand a few steps away from him.

Next come Meera and Jon in matching teal, twin shit-eating grins on their faces, and Theon has no doubt that they’re both having a little too much fun at his expense. They still smile at him encouragingly when they reach him, before they separate to stand on their respective sides.

They’re followed by Brienne and Robb, both expectedly holding back tears, Robb conjuring a rumpled, clearly used napkin from his pocket and handing it to Brienne before they separate.

Arya and Yara come in last. He watches the girls as they hook their arms together and start walking down the aisle, Arya’s pale pink dress flowing behind her in the wind, the soft color a sharp contrast to the tattoos adorning her body and the black string tied around her neck.

They both stop right in front of him, Arya reaching over to squeeze his hand quickly before moving to take her spot behind the bride, while Yara comes to stand proudly beside him.

When he looks back down the aisle, he finally catches the fiery red of Sansa’s hair, her delicate white dress blowing in the wind as she stands next to her father.

Her hair is tousled and flowing freely on her shoulder, her blue eyes piercing as they look at him. Her porcelain skin is nearly bare, her dress held together by thin straps hidden under her long locks and pooling like thick foamy waves around her.

Theon has never seen anyone look so beautiful, he decides.

She smiles widely at him, giggling excitedly and jumping a little on the spot as she holds on tight to her small bouquet, blue eyes taking every inch of his face.

It takes him a moment to find his bearings, eventually managing to replace his dumbfounded look with a wide smile. It’s almost painful, this overwhelming happiness he feels as he watches her loop her arm around her father’s and start to walk over to him.

A laugh bubbles its way out of him. He truly has no idea why he was ever afraid of this.

His eyes never leave Sansa’s, never faltering, never wavering, until she’s right in front of him. She kisses her father and gives Arya her bouquet of red flowers before she turns her attention back to him, nearly shivering in excitement when they join their hands together.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

* * *

Bran grins.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”

When Theon looks at Sansa this time, there’s nothing but love in his eyes.

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am hers, and she is mine, from this day, until the end of my days.”

He smiles.

_I am his_ , she said. _And he is mine._

He doesn’t know if he leans in first or if she does, but neither of them waits for Bran to tell them they may kiss one another. 

* * *

A few hours after the ceremony ends, Gendry finds himself sitting down on the sand, squished between Grey and Hot Pie. Arya’s perched between his legs, her back leaned against him and her arms propped on his knees as she talks to Missandei.

They’ve only just now managed to sit down and scarf down some of the food, having spent most of the night dancing around on the beach to celebrate the bride and groom.

At one point, Renly randomly yells something about how this is the best wedding reception he’s ever been to, raising his glass of red wine and leading the entire party into a toast. Everyone cheers in agreement, turning their attention to Sansa and Theon and raising their assortment of drinks around the bonfire.

Arya goes quiet, turning away from Missandei and running her fingers absently over Gendry’s knee. He leans forward to prop his chin up on her shoulder.

“Having fun?”

His voice is low and thick as he trails a finger from her shoulder down to her wrist, feeling her shiver slightly under his touch.

She hums comfortably, smiling as she sinks back into him and leans her head back against his shoulder before she shuts her eyes in content.

If someone had told Gendry two years ago that this is where he would be right now, he would’ve laughed right in their face.

Arya had seemed like such an elusive dream back then. She was in his life and would be for a long time, he knew, but never in the way he wanted her to be.

He wasn’t ready for her either, he knew. He had too much on his plate, she was too wild and unpredictable, he didn’t want to be stuck in a long term relationship... he had a billion and one excuses as to why he and Arya would _never_ work.

But none of that mattered because he remembers the exact day he resigned himself to it. To the fact that no matter how many people he meets, and no matter how many of those come and go and stay in his life, none of them would ever compare to her.

There wasn’t anything particularly special about that day, just him and the boys hanging around his apartment. He remembers Hot Pie going on about how Margaery Tyrell was the perfect woman, prompting Robb to ask who they thought the perfect woman (or man) was. When it was Gendry’s turn to answer, Hot Pie had quickly jumped in and told them that Gendry had always had a thing for Nym Sand. Which wasn’t a lie, really, Gendry always found her very attractive. Except that on that particular day, when he closed his eyes and tried to imagine her, that perfect woman he would want to be with, it wasn’t Nym’s olive skin and long black hair that stared back at him. No, it was a different pair of eyes, wide and curious and stormy gray, that haunted him. It was thick eyebrows and long lashes and a messy braid. It was pale skin in an oversized hoodie that hid a cluster of tattoos that he helped create.

Arya Stark had well and truly ruined anyone else for him.

And just when he had accepted that, she’d gone and told him they couldn’t be together.

Things worked out eventually, of course, Arya kicking her way back into his life to tell him every word he’d ever wanted to hear from her.

But sometimes, he can’t help but wonder if it’s a dream he conjured up. He finds himself in the darkness and uncertainty that engulfed him during their time apart, when he thought he had to resign himself to Arya being nothing more than his friends’ sister and roommate. To her being one more person he loved who walked out on him.

As if sensing his turmoil, Arya straightens up and turns to look at him properly. His whole body is suddenly tense, he realizes, nostrils flared and breathing a little shallow.

Her gray eyes are soft when she takes him in, one of her hands reaching up to cup his face.

He immediately relaxes under her touch, all of the tension in his shoulders releasing in one overwhelming second. She’s _right_ there.

“Hey,” she murmurs, running her thumb along his cheekbone. “You’re okay?” He can’t speak yet so he just nods lightly, covering her hand with his and pressing a soft kiss to her wrist. “I’m here,” she reminds him. He smiles because she knows. They’ve talked about it before. About the headspace he sometimes falls into and the nightmares that still plague them both nearly every night. They’ve got each other. “I’m here,” she repeats.

She turns away and sinks back into him, grabbing his arms to wrap them tightly around her chest and resting his hand against her heart so he can feel her. He pushes his knees tighter on either side of her, almost entirely wrapped around Arya now.

He nods against her shoulder, swallowing thickly but still managing to smile.

_I won’t run again._

She won’t leave him, she promised. And neither will Sansa, or Davos, or Shireen, or Grey, or Jon. None of them will leave him.

Arya presses a light kiss to his forearm before she turns in his arms, eyes lighting up with mischief.

He pulls away, loosening his grasp on her.

“What?”

Her eyebrows arch up, that damn look on her face telling him about all the trouble they’re about to get up to. “Up for a dip?”

He grins.

_Yes._ “It’s close to midnight,” he tells her instead.

She rolls her eyes, keeping a hold on his arms as she turns to look at Grey and Missandei.

“Missandei!” She calls out, catching the girl’s attention. “Swim?”

“Fucking yes,” Grey howls, standing up abruptly and taking his shirt off.

Missandei laughs and Arya grins triumphantly, pushing herself off the ground and pulling Gendry up by the hands.

“Come on, grandpa,” she teases, helping him unbutton his shirt. She turns her attention away from him for a moment, her hands still absently undoing his buttons. “Sansa!” Her sister’s eyes flicker over to her, brows whirling up as she tries to make sense of the undressing going on around them. “It’s time for a swim!”

“It’s time for a swiiiiiim!” Theon echoes excitedly next to Sansa, standing up and taking his shirt in one swift motion before he throws Sansa over his shoulder like a bloody caveman.

Sansa screeches but collapses in giggles and Arya barks a laugh as she watches Renly and Brienne sprint into the water fully-clothed, everyone else already in various degrees of naked.

She turns her back to Gendry wordlessly, brushing her hair away. Gendry immediately gets the messages, unzipping her dress and helping her out of it.

His eyes darken at the black lace underwear for a moment, leaning down to press a hungry kiss to her lips.

She pulls away but keeps his face close, running a hand through his hair softly.

“Later,” she promises.

He grins and kisses her jaw sharply before pulling away completely.

“Last one in the water gets to pack the bags tomorrow,” he challenges before he starts running down the beach.

“Bastard!” She gasps, running after him. “Cheater!”

The sound of their laughter echoes around the beach.


End file.
